Parfait Amour

David Park Barnitz

It is not that thy face is fair
As dying sunsets are,
Nor that thy lovely eyelids wear
The splendour of a star;
Tis the deep sadness of thine eyes
Hath my heart captive led,
And that within thy soul I prize
The calmness of the dead.

Wherefore because thy heart is all
Fill'd full of mournfulness,
And thy gold head as with a pall
Hung o'er with sinfulness;
Because thy soul is utterly
Sinful unto the core
Therefore my heart is bound to thee,
Dear love, forevermore!